“If I could wish, toss my penny into the fountain, or better—since wishes are beggars—toss in my three pennies, and name my nine and more wishes for myself as a writer, for my country’s writers, for our literature, what would they be? I’d wish, first of all, to be able to name my wishes, to be able to avow them openly: to name them, to claim them, the better to act upon them. I’d wish upon most of us more ambition, a larger sense of possibility. I’d wish for a sense of mission beyond identity politics—a wider healing. I’d wish as many of us were as interested in healing as in indicting, and if not able to name, at least willing to point, or if not able to point, at least willing to search for what could make our lives better than they are. I’d wish for a serious literature less willfully inarticulate to spiritual need, less deaf to spiritual summons, a literature that looks to what has long endured as well as to the novelties of the moment, a literature that seeks wisdom, that is unafraid to speak, without taking ironic cover, its full heart and mind.” — A.G. Mojtabai, “A Missed Connection.”